“All right,” said Jane. “So,dowe need to know why he put the ladder there?”
“Well, if we go and find him and question him, he’ll say it was because of the window,” said Byron.
“Likely,” said Jane.
“Even if he’s lying,” said Byron.
“True,” said Jane.
“But it is all very curious. If he works for Mr. Eves, why is he using Mr. Welling’s ladder to repair Miss Seward’s window?”
“That’s quite curious,” said Jane.
“As for Mrs. Beaumont and Mr. Eves, I don’t suppose I blame her. When we were boys, he was quite one for going on about how he didn’t like women’s bodies at all. Claimed they were too squishy, too fleshy, too round.”
Jane made a face at him.
“Too much?” he said.
“Far too much,” she said.
“Apologies.”
It was quiet.
“Maybe Beaumont knows,” said Byron, shrugging.
“He couldn’t!” Jane was horrified.
“I don’t know. I think men do. I think the husbands of most of my mistresses are aware, at least on some level.”
“Oh, truly? Please don’t.”
“Apologies,” he said again.
She drew herself up. “Let’s go and speak to Mr. Seward.”
“Mr. Seward? Why?”
“To ask if he wanted to do away with Mr. Hardy, of course.”
“Oh, yes, he’ll just admit that,” muttered Byron.
“It’s something to do,” she said. “I’d say that we ought to go and talk to the friend-of-the-gardener, but we do not know his name and we do not know where he works and we do not know where he lives, so I do not see how are going to do that.”
“Yes, good point,” said Byron.
“WAIT, YOU MEANthat the intended target of the murder was not Anne at all!” Mr. Seward was in the lobby of the inn, all his luggage packed. He was on his way out of town, having negotiated some kind of way forward with Mr. Hardy. Mr.Seward would own the tavern, and Mr. Hardy would run it. He said there was no reason for him to stay any more.
“We do,” said Byron. “And I have to ask, you did not bear Mr. Hardy any love, I don’t suppose. He had blackmailed you. He had threatened you—”
“Not so loud with that,” said Mr. Seward.
“Yes,” said Byron. “Very sorry about that.”
“You’re accusing me of this murder again!” Mr. Seward glared at them both. “I was not here. I was at home. And this sleeping draught of Mr. Hardy’s, I wouldn’t have known a thing about it.”
“Well, this is what we assumed you would say,” said Byron. “But can you think of anyone who may have wanted Mr. Hardy dead?”
